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<title>Day Ten: Modern AU by AfinaArchives</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22812490">Day Ten: Modern AU</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AfinaArchives/pseuds/AfinaArchives'>AfinaArchives</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>World of Warcraft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Modern AU, Voidtember2019</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 10:41:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>554</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22812490</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AfinaArchives/pseuds/AfinaArchives</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I mean have you looked at her name?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>None</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Voidtember2019</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Day Ten: Modern AU</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Firenze is a city within Toscana known for its rich history, although most choose to focus on a few specific topics. Perhaps for the fact that Florentine Italian had become the standard during unification, and the uproar schools had over their dialects being corrected. Perhaps it was known for the Medici, a family of princes which once lavished upon the city both wars and art; producing popes and queens who would shape Europe. Perhaps known for the Duomo, it’s many sides showing the longevity of the city as well as their faith and devotion. Gothic, Renaissance, Gothic Revial - oh to step inside the vaulted Cathedral could fill the heart with a sense of fulfillment and song. The history of such art! It was easier to see the services as part of her coursework, to focus on the pieces and connect them with one’s thesis papers was so much fun!</p><p>Even if you had to keep your sinful shoulders and blasphemous kneecaps covered. That was a pain.<br/>Afina rolled her eyes. She had not attended services for at least twenty years, hating the dresses which were all too restricting for a child. Those poofed skirts, lace, chiffon? It got dirty too quick. Like with lipstick, she couldn’t do things naturally, like eating. Which a person kinda sorta needs to do to survive. Her existence was altered simply to please people around her with aesthetics and she hated it. “If I can’t run and jump around in these clothes,” well she had told her mother in a fit, “I have no interest in them or going where I have to wear them!”</p><p>The same still applied.</p><p>Dressed in a dark blouse and long dress slacks, Afina exited her apartment and swung a leg over her Vespa on the street. Her clothing was nice and made her feel nice, even if it wasn’t the norm. </p><p>She reached under the handlebars, flipped the key to the on position, and smiled as the small vehicle lit up and began to bounce in place.</p><p>The streets were crowded and narrow, but going fast in the morning seemed to make it all last longer. Weaving throw traffic kept her sharp and gave her a chance to reflect; it gave her a chance to put her words together. “Amet; would you like to go out for coffee after service? My treat! Hmm, no. She feels off about never having to pay…” </p><p>Going to services certainly pleased her younger sister, who after a bad breakup now hoped to join the sisterhood. Afina truly didn’t know if it was the best idea given how much Amet liked material goods, but it was not her life and there would be no swaying her sister from the path she was set upon. All she could hope for was that Amet would be happy.</p><p>It was strange how in a place you had basically grown up in you could feel like a stranger, like a tourist. Voyeristic eyes appreciating Giorgio Vasari’s fresco high above, while she herself felt the eyes of douzens boring into her own back as if her pale skin was also egg pilaster. The last judgement? Close enough.</p><p>All she could do was hope she would be happy. That she could exist not to exist for others.</p><p>And buy cat litter on Monday. Shit.</p>
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